


Art

by happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Season/Series 10, Slow Burn, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-04 03:23:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21190751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font/pseuds/happy_birthday_diane_use_a_pretty_font
Summary: Krieger learns about some of the arts of courtesans. Ray is glad to teach him. Takes place during 1999/season 10.





	1. Knowledge of Gold and Gems

**Author's Note:**

> If you read The Waterfall you know i hc 1999!Ray as having long luxurious hair, so don't be confused when it comes up here too!! Also these chapters are all gonna be pretty short, but if you want a long-ass angsty sexy slowburn be sure to go read "Such a Lovely Place" by me. The most recent chapter solves the mystery of that one tag everyone's been asking about ;)

Ray was on his bed, clutching his favorite lamp, tea set, and vase tight to his chest as the ship jerked violently forward and back. A sudden, hard hit caused his authentic cherry armoire to pop open, and Ray winced as he helplessly watched his sewing kit fly off the shelf and spill all over the floor. Spools of thread rolled around with the movements of the ship, tangling around the legs of chairs and creating a web of color. Another bump rattled his desk drawer open, and luxurious brushes, antique pens, and bottles of genuine India ink in all different hues spilled forth with the subsequent turbulence. Suddenly, the shaking stopped, and everything remained still for a moment before being pulled toward the front of the room by the strong grip of inertia. Ray realized the ship must be accelerating, a suspicion confirmed by the steady metallic rumble that caused the walls and floor to vibrate.

How had he ended up here?

There were several more jolts and collisions, but after about half an hour, the Seamus was sailing about as smoothly as it ever did; that is, not very much, but enough.

After stowing his most delicate valuables away under the bed, Ray wandered to the bridge to see if anything good had come of the turbulence. A wall of warm air hit him the second he opened the door. They must’ve shut down the climate control in order to concentrate all their power to the accelerators.

Malory and Lana were sitting before a huge crate - the former, to examine the loot inside, and the latter, to make sure she didn’t pocket any of the items. The crate was practically overflowing with gems, jewels, and pearls.

“Shit,” said Ray. “We’re eatin’ good tonight, huh?”

“We’ll see if you get a share, Missy,” said Malory, already drunk with power.

“I don’t really care; I eat y’all’s food outta the fridge anyway.” He peered into the crate, looking for diamonds - those were his favorite - when he got a bad feeling. The gems were shiny, of course,  _ almost  _ glowing, but not quite there. The hues reached deep shades of crimson, blue, and green, but the highlights weren’t quite as bright as Ray pictured. He picked up a ruby (dodging a slap from Ms. Archer) and held it up to the light. Not quite dazzling…

“Y’all went through a lot of trouble for these?”

“A  _ lot _ of  _ trouble?!” _ snapped Archer, spinning around in his seat at the control panel. His arm was heavily bandaged. “I got shot, the ship almost blew up into space-dust, and while I was running,  _ backwards, _ with my side of that stupid million-pound box, listening to Lana’s stupid convoluted directions, fleeing a hoard of angry, bloodthristy Dr’in pirates, I dropped my flask, my  _ only  _ flask that doesn’t melt a little bit when we make the jump to hyperspace, my flask half full of Glengoolie Black imported from Earth ten years ago. So yeah,  _ Ray, _ I guess you could say we went to a  _ lot of trouble.” _

Ray rubbed the surface of the ruby with his nail. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’ll bet you are.”

“‘Cause they’re fake.”

_ “What?”  _

“Yup.”

Malory glared. “I don’t believe you.”

“Maybe they’re not  _ all _ worthless. But this one’s definitely fake.”

“How can you even tell? I doubt your  _ customers _ send you gifts worth a damn.”

“First of all, they’re clients. Second of all, they absolutely do,” Ray chuckled; he loved when clients fell head over heels and spent exorbitant amounts of money on diamond swans, pearl earrings, gold-plated phallus statues, and the like. It was hilarious. “And to answer your question…” He held out the gem so everyone could see. “See that scratch on the surface?”

“What about it?”

“If this was a real ruby, unless my nails were made of diamonds - which, note to self, would be amazing - that wouldn’t be possible.”

“God _ damn _ it!”

“That can’t be right.” Archer wiped his sweaty brow on his arm. “Since when do we trust that Ray knows things?”

“I have a postgraduate degree.”

“In geology?” asked Lana.

Krieger entered the bridge just then, red-faced. “Who’s talking about geology?”

Archer stood. “Krieger, how can you tell if a ruby is fake?”

“You scratch it.”

“Shit.”

“They might not  _ all _ be fake,” said Malory. 

“Yeah, just scratch ‘em all, why don’t you.”

“I will!”

“Malory,” groaned Lana, “That’ll take hours! There’s a hundred pounds worth of gems here!”

“Well, many hands make light work, so get to it!”

“I have a question,” said Krieger.

“Um, just because your  _ son _ is co-captain does  _ not _ mean I’m about to take orders from you.”

“I have a question,” said Krieger.

Malory dabbed at beads of perspiration with her sleeve. “Well maybe if you listened to me once in awhile, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen!”

“Malory, that raid was your idea!”

“I have a question,” said Krieger.

_ “What?!” _ both women cried in unison.

“Why don’t you just dump all the jewels in a bucket of water?”

They stared at him blankly. 

“Whatever floats is plastic, whatever sinks is real.”

Malory leaned back in her seat. “My God, the robot’s right. Lana, go get a bucket of water.”

Lana turned to Archer. “Go get a bucket of water.”

“Uh, I just got shot.” He faced Krieger and Ray. “As your captain, I order you to - ”

“Yeah, we know,” said Ray. He turned to Krieger. “I don’t do physical work - well, except the one thing, so…”

“So?” He crossed his arms. “Oh, I get it, so since I’m a synthetic human instead of a ‘real’ one, I have to do all the heavy lifting?”

“Actually it’s because this is a brand new four-hundred-credit robe, but shit, I’ll get it if you’re gonna be like that!”

“It’s fine,” he huffed. He began to leave the room, but Archer called him back.

“Yeah, uh, what happened to interfacing with the climate control panel and getting the air conditioner back online?”

“I can’t  _ interface - ” _

“Then stick your dick in it.”

“ - And the air conditioning units are broken.”

“Because you stuck your dick in them?”

“No goddamn it, the compressor is broken!”

“Then fix it!”

“I can’t. I’m at least going to need a new condenser coil.”

Archer was fanning his face already in the heat. “Great. Great! Whose idea was it to build humans that aren’t even useful? Like, Cyril’s worthless and incompetent, but he wasn’t created on purpose, so it’s his right. But why would someone go out of their way to construct something that can’t even fix simple shit?!”

Cyril looked up from his screen. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Ray was watching Krieger struggle to maintain composure.

“My status has nothing to do with the damage to the air conditioning.”

“Excuses.”

Krieger took a deep breath, turned on his heel, and left the room. Ray followed close behind.

“Hey,” said Ray, “I’ll get the water.”

“No, thanks. Contrary to popular belief, I actually like being useful. And I’m a fish, anyway, so I might as well.”

“Don’t say that! Everyone’s just irritable ‘cause of the heat.” He followed Krieger as he ascended the metal stairs toward the utility sink.

“Isn’t your cabin in the opposite direction?”

“It’s a  _ boudoir.” _

“The question stands.”

“I’m just keeping you company. Is that a crime?”

Krieger paused as he looked through the closet for a big enough bucket. He was suspicious, but didn’t object.

“Y’know, that was a pretty clever solution, the water thing. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it.”

“Why would you have?”

Ray shrugged, watching the bucket slowly fill under the weak tap. “One of the arts of courtesans is solving riddles. There’s lots of popular ones that have practical answers like that.”

“Is that where you learned that only diamonds can scratch rubies?”

“No, knowledge of jewels and gems is a whole separate art.”

Krieger almost confessed that that was impressive - he adored geology, though he rarely got to study it - but resolved to stare silently at the water, avoiding eye contact. He refused to let Ray help carry the bucket (something about it felt like asking a lady for help, and Krieger liked to think of himself as chivalrous, although even if Ray was a woman, he’d be far from a lady) and they parted in the hallway. Ray was presumably off to his boudoir to try and keep cool. 

Krieger shook the thought out of his head. He had bigger fish to fry than getting distracted by a rare act of kindness from his crewmate.


	2. Preparation of Sherbet

No matter how many times he explained that the air conditioning unit was out of order, completely irreparable without the part he needed, everyone still insisted that Krieger try and fix it, anyway. He really did put in an effort - he was as swampy and sweaty as everyone else, after all - but to no avail. To avoid the inevitable beration he was sure to receive, he shuffled up many flights of stairs from the lowest bowels of the ship all the way up to his cabin, only to find that it was over ninety degrees inside and increasing. He usually considered it a privilege, having an upstairs cabin, but now he cursed it. Whose idea was it to make heat rise?

  
It was times like these that Krieger became convinced that there was an intelligent creator, simply because luck like his was impossible to come by naturally.

  
His limbs felt like lead, which was weird because they were made of steel. His eyelids were growing heavy, too, and he realized he was on the verge of overheating and shutting down. Great.

  
Grumbling, he trudged down to the lower decks of the ship, which felt almost-not-boiling in comparison to his cabin. He figured his best bet was the mess hall for a big glass of water.

  
He cursed the creator who he was now positive existed. For some unfathomable reason, Ray and Pam - by far the loudest people on the ship, especially when together - were already seated at the table.

  
“Please? I barely got any!”

  
“You got the same amount as everybody else,” said Ray through gritted teeth. Evidently he was sick of whatever conversation they were having.

  
“Um, hello!” she gestured toward her body.

“Relatively, I got way less! It’s about equity, Ray, not equality!”

  
“Yeah, talk to me about equity,” he grumbled, as he rose and placed his bowl and spoon in the sink. He ran the faucet and rinsed the dishes, splashing some of the lukewarm water on his face.

  
Krieger filled a plastic cup with water from the fridge. By some miracle, it was tepid, rather than straight-up warm. He drank gratefully, not listening to his crewmates’ conversations, at least until he heard his name.

  
“Even if I wanted to make more, I couldn’t. We’re outta milk, remember?”

  
“Krieger’s right there.”

  
“I am not milkin’ Krieger!”

  
“If you do, can I watch?”

  
Krieger turned to them. “You realize extracting milk from me would just be stabbing me, right?”

  
“Yeah, with his fingers!”

  
“Uh…”

  
Ray sighed as he extracted an elaborately embroidered silk fan from the pocket of his kimono. “She’s referring to prostate milking.”

  
Krieger spat some of his water by mistake. He hastily mopped it off his lips with his sweat-saturated tank top.

  
“Um…”

  
“If you’re about to give me a crash course about...whatever your anatomical prostate situation is, I beg of you, honey, save it.”

  
“I was just going to say that fanning yourself like that only makes you hotter.”

  
“Yeah, that’s impossible.”

  
“Yeah,” said Pam, “He’s pretty hot, already!”

  
“Oh, my God, what have I told you a million - ”

  
“I just don’t see how you can claim not to like it if you’ve never tried it!”

  
“Honey, even if I did like it, I know your income - you couldn’t afford me!”

  
“I have savings!”

  
As they argued, Krieger refilled his cup and headed out the door. Maybe the lab would be a good place to hang out...He probably shouldn’t drink in there, especially not from an open container, but it was probably pretty cool considering how low in the ship it was, and the smooth tiles and metal surfaces.

  
He barely got halfway down the hall before he was interrupted.

  
“Krieger?”

  
He turned. Ray trotted up to him, whispering so Poovey couldn't eavesdrop.

  
“You headed to the lab?”

  
“Yes. Why?”

  
“I left you something in the freezer.”

  
Krieger raised an eyebrow.

  
“Don’t worry, it’s covered and everything. It’s just something to keep you cool. I had to stash it in there so certain members of our party didn’t get to your share.” With that, he turned around and headed the opposite way. Presumably to his boudoir.

  
In the lab, Krieger opened the freezer, releasing a puff of steam, to find a tupperware with a little note taped to it.

Here ya go :) In case you’re watching your figure, it’s just 1% milk, sugar, and watermelon flavored powdered drink mix.

Krieger opened the plastic container and found a bright green mixture, somewhere between ice cream and an Italian ice. He realized it was sherbet. He’d never had that before.

  
Laying flat on the cool tile floor, he ate half of the tart, frozen treat, and saved the rest (mostly melted, by now) for later. He’d never pictured Ray being much of a chef. To be honest, he’d always written him off as incompetent when it came to such tasks. The man had gone straight from the judge’s chair to extremely expensive hookering, and as such, it never occurred to Krieger that he’d ever prepared a dish for himself.  
Although, he didn’t seem like much of a geology fan either, and he’d proven to have extensive knowledge.  
Krieger took out his handheld tablet and typed for a moment.

Sure enough, according to his untraceable search engine, preparing frozen treats (sherbet, among others) was one of the 64 arts of courtesans. In fact, there were several surprising items on the list.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you love it? Did you hate it? Leave a comment :) and be sure to swing by lesbiansterlingarcher on tumblr.


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